Rehabilitation
by FairWave
Summary: <html><head></head>Twelve years after the maze, Sarah is trying to replace her fantasy land.  Disclaimer: Story contains drinking and mentions of past drug use, none of which is encouraged by the author.</html>
1. 01 Consciousness

**Chapter One - Consciousness**

A room swam into focus, blurry and muted shades of grey. Slowly it became industrial ceiling tiles surrounding flickering fluorescent lights, and when her head rolled to the left, there was a wall, with a rectangular opening in it. Not a door… a reception desk. There were two people in front, and a woman behind it, wearing a bright fuschia outfit that burned her eyes.

Her head rolled to the right and she peered out of a frosted glass window that showed blurry green shrubs, and a sunset _(sunrise?)_.

Next to the window were wide double doors, painted an army green. As her vision focused, she leaned down a bit and saw a multitude of black scuff marks on the metal kick plates that had been bolted to the bottom portions of the door, and reflected glare from the fluorescent lights above her.

When her chair shifted forward under her off-balanced weight, she jerked her body straight and leaned her head back against the wall, which thumped with a flash of throbbing pain. The people had stopped talking, and her eyes rolled into their direction.

"Hmmmmmmnn…" she groaned loudly.

_Murmur murmur murmur room?_

Talking again. This time, she swung her head forward on her wobbly neck, catching her forehead in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. When her vision stopped swimming, she inspected her shoes. They were gaudy things with black sequins and high heels. Glancing back to the metal kick plates on the doors, she studied her reflection. Black leggings and a long black spangly shirt to match her shoes, cinched with a wide silver belt. Her fingers scrunched through her dark brown hair, which was cut in a shaggy shoulder length style that fell in her face to hide her hazel eyes, which were currently dark with kohl eyeliner. Her head pounded, and her eyebrows scrunched together in pain. As she massaged her temples, the conversation to her left began to reach her ears.

"_Yes, just… dry her out, please. How long does that take?"_

"_We keep detox patients in for three days, assuming there are no health complications. If you'd like, we do offer a 28 day inpatient rehabilitation program…"_

…

"_What do you think, honey?"_

"_I think we should let her decide. Once she's, you know, coherent. Robert, I don't want to pay for something she's not going to be serious about."_

Moving her head slowly this time, she looked closer at her surroundings. It was clearly a lobby, and her father and step mother were standing in front of a fuschia monstrosity of a woman. The sign bolted to the wall read "Westwood Rehabilitation Center", and with those words, the straggled memories from the last few days pierced the fog in her brain.

Sarah had left her downtown apartment on Friday afternoon, ready to skip past the velvet ropes with a smile and seek the vibrating bass and slinking lights and strong drinks she knew she could find at the clubs. For that matter, she usually had her senses out looking for a different distraction, one with a few muscles and no name to remember, for a few unsatisfactory moments of intimacy, and an awkward morning of stumbling from an unfamiliar residence with the sunrise jabbing through her eyelids.

As she struggled to remember more, a miserable thought floated to the surface: _This is every night for you, Sarah. You don't need specifics – not only are they important, they don't exist. This is your daily life._ Her head dropped back into her hands, and she heard fingers typing on a keyboard, and a printer whirring to life.

"If you could please sign these, Mr. Williams, we'll get a bed ready for your daughter."

"Yes… right here? Okay. What's today's date?"

"It's August 18, Wednesday."

The date struck Sarah as odd, but it did not shock her too terribly. This was not the first time she had lost track of a few days, though this was certainly the longest she had gone. She shifted her shoes uncomfortably on the scuffed linoleum, and ventured another look into the reflection of the metal kickplate.

After searching her reflection thoroughly, she reached out her hand and laid her palm on the dirty metal, a pleading look entering her eyes. Her lips moved without sound – _I need you_ – and after a breathless moment watching her hopeful face in the reflection, her fingers dropped from the metal and she withdrew her arm into the middle of her hunched form. She rocked back and forth drunkenly, dry sobs beginning to rack her shoulders. A door opened on her left, and footsteps approached her and helped her stand with gentle hands under her elbows.

She ventured a smeary-eyed look at her father and stepmother, safely hiding behind her shaggy hair. She saw what she knew she would see in their faces – pity, disappointment, love, and above all, worry. Her father gave her a hug and a brief peck on the cheek, and Irene squeezed her shoulder with a wary sort of intimacy.

"We'll be back on Friday. If they let you call, well, we'll be home. … Toby misses you."

As the nurses buzzed Sarah into the door next to the reception desk, she heard the thunk and swoosh of the double doors opening for her parents, and the dreary lobby brightened with the first rays of sunlight, just briefly, before dimming back into the greys. She stumbled where she was led, still mostly drunk, and thought about her hand on the reflection.

It was not the first time she had tried to call her friends, and she supposed she would try again. Her sequined shoes, the glitter of the nightlife, the drugs – they weren't working anymore. In the beginning, they had helped replace the fantasy world she had rejected – or at least, they helped her forget that she was no longer special, not some pursued princess in a fairy tale.

She could lose herself in a moment, in a dark place with warm bodies dancing in a much different way than she'd tried twelve years ago. But as the years passed, she had felt more and more desperate to get back what she had lost, and less and less able to find relief. And now – she didn't know how her father had found her, or what she had said and done over the last four days, but she was tired. Very tired.

A sterile room and a bed were presented by the orderlies, along with a tiny cup of pills, which she swallowed with a gulp of metallic-tasting water. As she collapsed onto the bed, she resigned herself to three days of the shakes, of screaming and crying and cursing. And hopefully, dreaming.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Okay, I am posting a story! At least, the beginning - I certainly haven't read every Labyrinth fanfic out there, and I am hoping this is a new kind of approach.

This is my first, and hopefully it seems interesting. I have never done this before, so any input or encouragement is appreciated!

Also, I own neither Sarah nor the Labyrinth.


	2. 02 Cleaning Up

**Chapter Two – Cleaning Up**

Marlee picked lazily at her lavender scrubs, at the spot she'd just spilled her morning coffee. She really preferred the magenta ones – such a bright spot in an otherwise washed out workplace – but Fridays were lavender, and besides, Saturday was a free day, and she'd just gotten new ones that would make a gypsy flush..

She mused on the reactions she'd get, but only for a moment before the sound of muffled shrieks floated over from the resident rooms. Marlee abandoned the front desk in a rush – she wasn't supposed to, but some of the craziest things happened in the detox ward, and she hated missing the excitement.

She followed the screams and thumps down a muted gray hallway to room 42, where another lavender-clad nurse stood. She held the patient's clipboard, but was staring at the window in Room 42's door with a fascinated, almost fearful expression. Marlee's sneakered footsteps stopped abruptly as she glanced into the window – the young girl, Williams, had her forehead pressed against the glass and her eyes, glaring out from underneath her dark eyebrows, were… well, Marlee wasn't going to say they were glowing, because no drugs did _that_, but… they were awfully bright. She held the girl's gaze for only a moment, before Williams' eyes flitted about erratically.

The thumps started again, making the steel door shudder in its frame. The patient's face scrunched in frustration and the painful screams started again. Unable to watch further, Marlee scooted carefully over to look at the clipboard that Shannon was holding. She really wasn't a nurse, so most of the notations didn't make sense, but it was something to change focus.

"What was she on, Shan? I've never seen anybody throw a fit quite like this." Marlee asked. Shannon flipped a page up on the clipboard and glanced down. "The drug test found alcohol, hydrocodone, and residual LSD. Nothing that should cause a come down like this," she said thoughtfully, flipping another page, "but in her intake interview, she claims she hasn't had a sober day in seven years. This is her third day here, that's always the hardest one."

The pounding in Room 42 slowed down significantly. The two women watched the girl's head disappear below the window, then listened as she slumped down with her back against the door. All was quiet for a moment. The women could hear their own quick nervous breathing, and as the silence began to drag on, Marlee tittered and dry washed her hands. "That was certainly diff—"

A rumbling roar gained volume from the other room. Shannon dropped the clipboard in surprise, and rather than clattering across the linoleum, it fell on edge and quivered there, as if held fast. Light vibrations echoed out from the door in front of them, and through the low-pitched reverberations, Marlee heard the patient's feminine voice cry out sharply and –

She started violently, nearly tipping herself out of the already wobbly receptionist's chair. After blinking confusedly at the ringing phone on the desk, Marlee wiped her clammy palms on her purple scrubs and reached to pick up the call. "Westwood Rehab, intake," she recited without thought, and listened without actually hearing the caller. She had never fallen asleep at work before, and with how fuddled she felt, she vowed to never let it happen again. It must be the atmosphere here in detox, she'd never had such an unnerving dream-

"_Hello? Can you hear me?"_

Grimacing, Marlee cradled the phone between her head and shoulder and gently smacked her forehead a few times, admonishing herself. _Focus, Marlee!_ "Yes Mr. Williams, so sorry. Yes, your daughter will be ready for discharge at 6 P.M. today. … Oh, goodness, you're right, it's quarter to seven! Oh dear, yes, please head over. We'll have Ms. Williams waiting. Thank you, sir. Yes, thank you."

Marlee set the phone into its cradle and looked at her Felix desk clock. Quarter to seven! She must have been asleep for most of the day! As she thought back, memories popped into being inside her brain – she had gone to lunch with the girls, Shannon had borrowed the pink highlighter, the regular drunk had stumbled in for another detox. Her day's events bloomed to dispel all her initial questions, and she hurriedly paged Shannon to begin the Williams girl's processing paperwork.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

It began shortly after the last time she had been able to call her friends from the Underground. In the beginning, it was only a minor discomfort, as if she were a lint cloth too full of static. It was never worse than that, though the feeling was always with her. She remembered her high school graduation, when the tassel on her mortarboard kept clinging to her cheek through the entire ceremony. If her hair hadn't been braided tightly, she knew it would have stood up all around her skull like in the science exhibits.

It was the night of the graduation party that she discovered her solution. It seemed an appropriate time to celebrate, and everybody else was drinking, so she gave it a shot. Literally. It left her sputtering, with watering eyes – but as soon as she felt the warmth of the alcohol hit her brain, it was as if a damp cloth had smothered the electric feeling that zipped lightly through her body. It was not until then that she realized how much it had unnerved her to feel so wired all the time – the sigh of relief she exhaled had made her friends laugh and offer her another drink.

After the third drink, Sarah discovered something else that made her original relief pale in comparison. The world was hazy, and bright, and the lights had sparkling auras that changed shapes as she blinked. Her steps felt lighter, and the entire world opened up as a new adventure. She could feel herself relating to her high school friends in a way she had craved for years – it felt so similar to the friendships she had made in the Labyrinth, so easy and familiar. So missed. It was a poor substitute for the otherworldly glamour of the Underground, but it was _something_, and having even that echo through the alcohol was enough to get her hooked.

For the next decade, it became as much of her life as college, and employment, and eating breakfast. It wasn't every day at first – more like every week, a few times a month. The static-cling feeling would come on, and Sarah would drink, and explore reality through the change in perception the alcohol would give her. But slowly, things deteriorated. The staticky feeling began to come back sooner after each binge, and it started to feel… contaminated. What was once a clean zippy feeling through her body became murky, painful shocks that got worse and worse every time they came. So, she stopped letting them come.

Every day, it was a drink, or a drug, or a combination, to dampen the ever-growing oddness that lurked inside her. And every day, the fantasy world she thought she'd discovered became darker, and more miserable. She found herself waking up in strange apartments with men she didn't know, or going days without checking in with her boss, who managed her art shows. It was a cycle she couldn't escape - until she came to at Westwood.

Here in her sterile room, two days later, she was losing control. A high voltage electric sort of pain radiated out from her abdomen in pulsing sparks. It squealed through her eardrums like a stressed railroad spike pulling free from iron tracks. The shocks built up in her fingertips and stung everything she touched, and her entire being felt so full; _something _was pushing against her skin, forcing a residue from her pores and coating her senses. She was caught in a rancid oil slick that was clinging to her vision and her ears and her body in a filthy haze that was building up inexorably.

Sarah stumbled up from her bed and fell against her door, shrieking wordlessly. Her head thumped against the square window, and she could see two pastel nurses staring at her, consulting a chart and whispering back and forth as she pounded against the door fruitlessly.

In exhaustion, Sarah twisted her body around and slid down the door, hospital shirt bunching up against her neck and exposing her hot, sweat-slicked back against the cool metal of the door. After a few deep, ragged breaths, she brought her fingers into her wild hair and pulled sharply, yanking her head backwards. She could feel something roiling inside her soul, and she gave herself up to it. No more fighting.

The boiling burst forth from her throat, shouting in her voice, in a word she couldn't understand. Her mouth didn't finish speaking it – it was pulled from her lips in a violent rush, leaving her breathless. As readied herself to draw her next lungful of air, Sarah felt the atmosphere around her slow… and then stop, as if the world had been cooled into a Jell-o mold. Unable to move, but seeing through her motionless eyes, Sarah watched her room plunge into darkness, with no light from the hallway entering through the door window. A flickering glow encapsulated her body, pulsing erratically, the color of vomit. It strengthened steadily, illuminating her room in its sickly glow, and as it detached from her body and grew outward, Sarah felt the rancid oily feeling lift from her skin.

A moment of blessed relief before the pulsing aura flashed brightly and coalesced into one bright ball of fire in front of her breasts. It shook violently, as if fighting an unseen force, before being yanked into her abdomen as if pulled by a string – but not _into_ her, she could feel. It was pulled _through_ her, though she couldn't imagine where it ended up, Sarah could tell the fizzy electric feeling inside of her was almost entirely gone, for the first time in years.

As quickly as the room had darkened, the lights snapped back on, and Sarah found herself lying peacefully on her hospital bed, hands folded over her middle. She stared at the ceiling in wonder (_how am I here?)_ but before she could arrange her thoughts, a loud knocking echoed through her room, startling her out of bed in defense. A glance at the window showed the intake nurse, smiling happily and moving to open the door.

"Oh good, Ms. Williams! You're ready! Impatient to be out of here, I bet!" said Nurse Shannon, looking down at the clipboard she carried. "Let's just get this paperwork signed, and your dad should be in the lobby waiting for you." She left the door open and motioned to be followed, which Sarah did without thought. She glanced down as she walked, and saw that she was back in the clothes she had been wearing when she first arrived.

_Let's just get of here, Sarah, while you still feel this good._ She _did_ feel good – better than she could ever remember, and while she was dying to think on what had happened in her detox room, she figured it would be safe enough to at least make it home before trying to pick apart what the hell had actually gone on in there.

Shannon glanced back as they walked down the hallway, giving Sarah a reassuring smile. "May I say, you're looking much better than you did on Wednesday, Ms. Williams. Of course, most people leave here looking healthier than they did on arrival, but you're nearly glowing! I think you've got a chance, you better not waste it!"

"Thank you", Sarah said. "I mean, I won't. Waste it. I, ah, I don't want to come back here if I can help it." she said earnestly. She passed the reception desk, sneaking a peek out into the grey and green lobby and recalling her time spent in there.

Shannon chuckled knowingly. "That's the spirit. Here, sit down and we'll get you out of here."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

In his library, he might have looked to be reading a book on Goblin anatomy _(awful subject, really), _with his feet swung over the arm of the worn red leather chair in a deceptively casual position. What he had been studying, however, was the crystal standing on the low table in front of the chaise lounge. It had long ago been mounted onto a stand, three bronze talons keeping the flickering orb from rolling around.

It had called him hours ago, and he had sat here and watched the rolling charcoal swirls inside, tumbling and churning with streamers of what looked like goblin snot. Whatever it was, the burnished wood table was quaking with the power caught inside.

"Soon, you are going to settle yourself. You always do, somehow," he spoke aloud. But… it had never been quite so… ferocious. He let his head fall on the arm of the couch and opened his mouth to berate his foolishness, but froze as an echoed cry reached his ears.

_Please!_

His angled brows rose in surprise, but he wasted no time. She had not said his name, but there was certainly enough of the intent to let him take action. He held out his gloved hands to the crystal, and pulled the sickness from within, the taint that he'd seen building since he created the thing. It flashed into a foul yellowish ball in front of him – that quickly began burgeoning, with streamers of glowing light spreading out across his library.

Cursing his unpreparedness, he racked his brain for a solution. This was not so much power that he couldn't control it, but what he could not manage was the filth, the rotted part that had somehow grown to such proportions that he was shocked it had not killed her. When he thought of a solution, he grimaced with disgust, and popped the unstable magic from his presence –

- and into the Bog of Eternal Stench, where it grew and flew apart in an explosion that stripped the bark from the trees and splattered putrid water in a mile radius outside of the Bog.

He could hear the Labyrinth raise its voice plaintively inside of him, and before he ventured out to begin some semblance of damage control, he inspected the crystal closely. Where the clouds had been murky and foul, he saw what looked to be a gentle, shimmering mist, floating serenely. She was alive.

"She's going to fix this, damn it. **All** of this. I am tired of waiting," muttered Jareth, as he poofed into his owl form and darted out the library window.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I have a cat on my lap.

Sarah's scream was Gaelic, but I've edited it to work with the rest of the upcoming story.

The first time I saw someone do a story alert, I couldn't wait to write more! I hope I didn't rush it, I wanted to get something out quickly. Any reviews would be excellent!

Thanks!

Oh, all I own here are the pastel nurses.


	3. 03 Dust

**Chapter Three - Dust**

Sarah was infinitely glad to climb the stairs of her childhood home and quietly close the door behind her. Turning to inspect her old bedroom, Sarah finally took a long, shuddering breath and relaxed her shoulders, plopping cross-legged onto the floor.

The ride home had been awful. At least Irene wasn't there – it was marginally easier to deflect her father's questions, but the most difficult part was the lack of answers she had.

No, she did not know why she acted this way.

No, she did not realize how much pain she was putting her family through.

Yes, she was going to try and stop this time.

She had sat in the passenger seat with her bare feet against the dashboard, resting her arms and head on her knees and hiding her face from her father. He had patted her shoulder once at a stoplight, but he seemed to assume that her shame was overwhelming, and did not press her beyond his few frustrated inquiries. He did let her know that her art manager had called her cell phone, and informed him that she'd sold his daughter's last painting in West Hollywood, the money was in her account, and could he please have Sarah call once she had her phone back? He had gone by her apartment to collect the mail and throw away the half empty milk carton and Top Ramen wrappers that had been left fouling the two-bedroom loft during her detox. He informed her that he was not taking her back there, but that she would stay at their house while they figured out where to go from here.

She knew it should frustrate her, to have her life gathered up so succinctly and tucked into a corner for consideration, like a dog who kept urinating on the carpet, but she was bouncing between two marvelously confusing feelings. As she sat on her old bedroom floor, she held out her hand in front of her, examining the pale, slender fingers from the back, and then turning to inspect her palm. Overwhelming the guilt she felt for worrying her family was the awe and relief of the calm inside her body. The violent static electricity that typically infused her was almost entirely gone. In its place was a soft vibration, like the gentle strum of a guitar string, silent and beautiful. It may have felt much like it did in her late teenage years, but those times were so obliterated in her mind that it was difficult to recall.

She felt like stretching, flinging her arms out and standing on her tip toes and opening her lungs to whoop powerfully, smiling and spinning about. Instead, she held herself carefully on the old carpet, Indian-style, and investigated her other emotion. She couldn't decide whether it was fear, or confusion, or simply hesitant curiosity. Try as she might, she could remember little of her stay in the detox center. This was not terribly alarming, as she was used to blacking out, but the last day should have been the clearest (and the most painful), yet she could recall nothing. There was no doubt in her mind that her clean, calm feeling was related to her curiously blank spot from the ward, and she didn't know whether to rejoice, or worry about the implications.

As she sat and marveled at the serenity inside her, she took a moment to look around her room. _They've turned it into a junk room! _There were boxes of Toby's old schoolwork stacked haphazardly on her bed, and the old stuffed animals that used to be there were probably the lumpy black plastic trashbag underneath the dresser. Mail to be sorted and filed was stacked on her desk, and there were unexplainable narrow pieces of plywood leaning on the wall behind the doorjamb. The only untouched piece of furniture was her full length stand mirror – so untouched that the dust lay thickly against the glass.

Sarah shifted to her hands and knees and crawled to crouch in front of the mirror. She stuck her fingers against it, leaving four smudged yet clear spots in the dust. She pulled her hand back and sat on it as she thought aloud.

"It's been, man, over a decade, guys." she said as she inspected her own reflection in the mirror. "It was after my eighteenth birthday party, I came home laughing and light headed, and I couldn't wait to tell you guys what I was going to do before art school, and about Jason and how he finally kissed me. I had told you I'd be here, and I was here… I sat here for hours, I fell asleep right here and woke up with my butt numb and still, you guys didn't come."

Sarah shifted her weight and pulled her hand out from underneath her. She lifted her index finger and traced a name into the dust:

_Sir Didymus_

"You said you'd fight for my honor. You were my furry knight, and now you're gone and I'm… well," she glanced down at her spangly outfit, the one she had left the house in over a week ago. "I'm not worth saving anymore, am I?" Her bottom lip pouted out a little, and she drew a line, crossing out the name.

Sarah wrote another name in the dust. _Ludo_

"Do you realize how pathetic stuffed animals are to hug, once I've had a hug from you? I even actually looked for a big guy with chest hair, and that's even worse!" Sarah laughed a little at the memories, though the smile never touched her eyes. She drew another strikethrough.

And after a moment:

_Hoggle_

At this name, Sarah's sad eyes glistened a little, but she blinked back any possible tears. "You were the one who promised. I know it's not your fault that I turned out this way… but I always wonder what would have happened if you guys had come that night. If you hadn't stayed away.

His name was crossed out as well.

Sarah dropped her hand to the floor, absentmindedly rubbing the accumulated dust from her fingertip into the carpet. She stared blankly at the names written on the mirror, and a heavy sigh escaped as she thought back onto her time in the Labyrinth. No matter how many times she blacked out from drinking, no matter how many drugs she did, those were memories that stayed with her, and she was mostly thankful. She missed the fantasy world, and wondered if she would ever really feel a part of any world anymore. It was hard to accept traffic and cancer and depression when one had experienced the Underground. The magic.

Biting her lower lip in consternation, Sarah lifted her hand one more time. There was one name left. She hadn't said that name in years, and the last time… well, shouting a name that doesn't belong to your bedfellow while in the throes of passion is not just a social faux pas, it shamed Sarah to her bones to have been told about it the next morning. And _his_ name, no less! She tittered nervously at the memory, and then shook her upper body briskly, flopping her arms about as if ridding herself of cobwebs. "Don't be ridiculous, Sarah Williams!" she said to herself sternly. Still smiling at her own nervousness, her fingertip hit the mirror again.

_Jareth_

…

…

It was many moments before Sarah realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a peal of laughter, about an octave higher than normal, and rocked back onto her knees. She was shaking a little, but still alive. Not entirely sure what she had been expecting, she mentally upbraided herself for her wild imagination and reached out with her palm to wipe the names off the mirror.

"Those have terrible power, dear. You should take care in how you treat them."

The voice slid seductively over her shoulder, and any composure she may have attained through self-will fell apart in a flurry of motion. Sarah whipped around awkwardly from her position on the floor, and her shins banged against the lower bedframe. As she scooted her butt back to thump against the mirror, the boxes stacked onto the bed tumbled over to the floor, and leaning casually against the wall next to the window was _him_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Man, I wish I could write all the time. I apologize for the delay - between working full time and finally looking to get my English degree, it is hard to find time to write for pleasure. This story is kicking its way out of my head though!

Please rate and review! Thank you to those who have reviewed, and for your interest in the strange direction in which this is going. I appreciate criticism!

I own nothing, not for profit.


	4. 04 Charged

**Chapter Four - Charged**

Sarah's breath caught as she stared at Jareth, though her heart pounded wildly in her chest. In her panicked state, her eyes scanned down and up his lean body, taking in scattered details. His wild hair fluttered, as if caught by a breeze in her still, silent room. His lips were curved in an amused smile. Tight, maroon leather jacket. Her eyes skipped lower to note grey leggings tucked into leather boots, then flickered up to meet his eyes before she could stop them. They were the same piercing blue she remembered, with the unnerving wide pupil on the left.

"You look the same," she said lamely as her lungs emptied themselves. She took in a great gulp of air and tried to organize her thoughts. She found this easier when she focused on the windowsill instead of him. It needed painting, she noted. Also, the window was dirty. It was dark outside – what time was it? Maybe she should get something to eat. What was he _doing_ here – could writing his name really have called him? Her gut tried to curl up inside itself - had he heard her that night she'd called it out?

His chest shook as he chuckled, a deep throated sound that drew her eyes back to his before she could think to stop them.

"That is likely. You, on the other hand. I was not expecting such an interesting ensemble." She followed his gaze down to her sequined top, and blushed furiously. Of course he would appreciate it. She sparkled nearly as much as his throne room.

"I don't always wear this," Sarah started. She glanced around her bedroom nervously, her hands gesturing as she spoke. She felt the guitar-strum inside her quicken, becoming more staticky. "Well, I've been wearing this one for a week now, I suppose, but I usually change more often. And this is for going out. I still like jeans. I –"

"A week? Gods, what have you been doing in that outfit for a week?" Jareth chuckled again. "I'll be staying over here, thank you." He patted the windowsill, then frowned and inspected his dust-covered fingertips. His glittering eyes narrowed as he took in the state of the bedroom, and Sarah's bare feet. "For that matter, what have you been doing for the last ten _years_? And really, could you lower your aura? I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but I am only here to talk to you, my dear."

The barrage of questions, combined with her annoyance at being so confused, finally snapped Sarah from her dazed state. She climbed to her feet, brushing the dust off her shirt and leggings, and glared at Jareth. The electric feeling inside of her kept rising, and it fueled the frustration inside of her. It also dampened her embarrassment, for which she was intensely grateful.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here? I didn't call you, not on purpose! You showed up in my bedroom and started asking these patronizing questions. You have _no idea_ what I've been doing this last decade!?" Sarah rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and waved her hand airily. "Oh, yes, I simply forgot about the entire Underground and moved on with life. I got an Accounting degree at the local community college and moved into a suburban house dressed in shades of taupe, with an herb garden out back, and joined a bingo club!"

At Jareth's level-eyed look, Sarah ran her fingers through her messy hair and groaned, yanking handfuls down towards her ears. It felt like it was frizzing all around her forehead, or floating like Jareth's pale locks.

"I don't know what I've been doing!" she said sullenly, starting to pace. "There is something wrong with me, and it finally feels better, and then _you_ show up, spouting nonsense! I know this is not a coincidence! Why now? Why _you_?"

Her pacing brought her to face Jareth, and she steeled herself to stare at him defiantly. But when she met his eyes, she didn't see anger. It looked more like… was Jareth unsure of something? She could smell him, this close – it was spicy and cool, she couldn't quite place it. She realized that if she could smell him, he could likely smell her, and stepped back a pace.

"What about my aura?"

"It's blasting.

"Oh-_kay_. What aura?"

Jareth straightened his lithe body, tapping his fingertips against each other in front of him. His eyes bored into Sarah, as if he were trying to read her mind. After a moment, he smiled widely, his feral teeth shining. Sarah shrank away momentarily, then straightened back in a show of strength.

"May we talk somewhere?" Jareth asked, still grinning. "I think we have some catching up to do."

"What's wrong with right here?" Sarah asked warily.

Waving a gloved hand in front of his face, Jareth faked a weak cough. "It's musty, and dreary, and simply inappropriate for discussions of this sort."

Sarah snorted. "You've got to know I'm not going anywhere with you."

"What if you pick the venue? I'll even," he waved a hand in her direction, "make sure you're appropriate." His wide smile slid into a grin, and he openly leered at her. "Not that I mind your current choice, of course." He sidled closer to her, and she resolutely held her ground. "It's just, well, you're a bit fragrant—"

"You ass." Sarah blurted, punching him on the shoulder without thought. He staggered back in surprise, looking down at her fist. Sarah, too, examined her hand. Where she had contacted Jareth, a small spark had arced out, like a static charge. She shook her fingers gingerly and sighed. She was taking this entirely too well, she decided.

"Okay," she said, hanging her head. "It's late though. At least, I'm pretty sure." Sarah glanced out the dark window, and then looked up at Jareth, who was still entirely too close. "It's been a really long, confusing day."

"Hasn't it, though?" Jareth smiled again.

"I suppose you had something to do with that?" Sarah asked.

"With what?"

"I- I don't know. I felt like I was going to die, or implode this morning, I remember that. And now… now I feel… good." Sarah shook her head a little, her choppy black hair swaying into her eyes and clinging to her forehead. "A little charged, like I'm in a thunderstorm, but good."

"Do I make you feel… good, Sarah?" Jareth asked, smiling at the blatant implication.

This was the first time he had said her name in so long, and it made her shiver. There was so much in his voice, it reminded her of heroin. Dark, and alluring, and deadly. It was hard to tell if the cheesy line was meant to make her uncomfortable, or to make her laugh. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking away.

"I may have… relieved you earlier today. But it was only at your request, and even that took a great deal of twisting intent."

She peered up at him quizzically, but waved it off and said "Tomorrow. Let me shower and try to get some sleep. I haven't had a good night's sleep in… too long."

Nodding thoughtfully, Jareth stepped back from her, towards the window. Raising his hand to face his palm towards her chest, he hesitated briefly, and asked "May I?"

"NO!" Sarah shrieked, slapping his hand away. "What the hell?!"

He laughed then, not a chuckle, but a full, throaty laugh she could hear from within his chest. "Oh Sarah, you have changed and you have not." She remained motionless and his hand reached out to tug on strands of her hair. Sarah turned around and observed in the dirty mirror that her hair really was electrified, and standing out from her scalp like Einstein. She blushed and ran her fingers through it futilely.

"Turn, dear." She did.

Jareth placed her hand in front of her chest again, about five inches away from her rapidly beating heart. A blurry pulse pushed out from his palm and shook the black sequins between her breasts before it settled inside her chest. Sarah felt her hair fall greasily against her head. Her shirt fell back from her body, where it had been clinging against her form. She felt neutral – she could feel the charge inside her, but it no longer radiated out. It was so relieving; she plopped onto the bed, as weak as if she'd just received a full-body massage.

She watched Jareth's shoulders slump, and his posture relax.

"Gods, that's much better," he said. "I don't think I could have stood it much longer."

"Stood what?" Sarah asked mildly. She knew she should be suspicious, but now that she no longer felt like a full battery again, sleepiness was washing over her in waves.

"That, we will discuss tomorrow evening. You may choose where. Until then, I have things to attend to." Jareth pursed his lips, then, giving Sarah a dismissing wave, and poofed out of her bedroom.

"But-! Oh, fine." Still sitting dreamily on the bed, Sarah blinked and watched glitter settle onto the old dusty carpet and disappear. In only moments, all evidence of Jareth's presence had disappeared. No, not all – she felt the little shrouded pulse inside her ribcage, muffled and easy to ignore. That, and her clammy palms.

"I think. Maybe. I think that I maybe did too much this time." Stumbling onto her feet, she walked to turn off the light switch, and fell into bed, lazily brushing old papers onto the floor. She squirmed under the blanket and stared out the window, mulling over the night's events.

He was not as scary as she remembered. She wasn't sure if he had changed, or her, but she was willing to bet it was mostly her perception. The years since conquering the Labyrinth had been wrought with ecstatic happiness and wretched depression, all coupled with the various pitfalls of human nature, and the girl who had fought so frantically for her little brother was not the same woman who curled up in the dusty childhood bed, still in her spangled, week old clothes. But that girl was when it all began, and she was still a part of Sarah. It was all the other parts that needed figuring out.

As she finally fell asleep, without any illicit substances, for the first time in years, Sarah Williams dreamed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Ohh, the quarter ended yesterday, and I wrote this today. I hope it's not too sloppy, I was just so excited to be able to get back to it.

I worry that I get so excited about writing that I forget to do a good job. I just want the story to be alive! This is so much fun.

Thank you to my reviewers! And thank you to Rena Cresten, who reminded me that I do not edit very well. I think I need a beta. :)


	5. 05 Windows

**Chapter Five - Windows**

The sun was streaming through the dusty window at a low angle when Sarah finally stirred. Scrunching her eyes against the bright yellow rays, she flung her head to the opposite side and groaned in pain. Her head was throbbing, and she could feel the back of her neck was clammy with sweat, soaking into her hair and pillowcase.

She lay there for a while with her eyes closed, letting the pounding in her head subside. She knew it was likely a dehydration headache, and she cursed herself in a whisper for curling up under a blanket on an August night in California. She noted that the covers had been kicked off towards the foot of the bed, and her legs were tangled in the sheets, though her dreams had not been particularly violent or memorable. In fact, she had slept deeply, and from the afternoon light, for a long time. She noted absently the muted fuzzy feeling in her chest – it was maybe a little less muted this morning, but not uncomfortable yet.

Finally working her eyes open, Sarah sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed to sit, slumped and bleary. She took one glance at her reflection in the smudged mirror and groaned yet again.

"I never want to see these clothes again!" she grumbled aloud, standing up and yanking the awful sequined black sheath top over her head and ramming it into the tiny trash can by the desk. She hopped on one leg to peel the leggings off, first the right, then thumping into the desk as she tugged them off her left heel. These were shoved into the trashcan too, along with her undergarments. "I feel like a crusty, week old snotrag," she complained as she stuck her head in the closet and fished out an oversized tee-shirt that had been well-worn by her father. Dropping it over her head, she cracked open the bedroom door and peeked out into the hallway. Seeing and hearing nobody, she quietly took a towel from the linen closet and slunk into the bathroom.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

She had never had a more wonderful shower, Sarah determined as she leaned towards the mirror. _In fact, that was the best hour I've had since getting that massage while on mushrooms, _she thought wryly. The mirror was fogged but for a damp swipe by her palm, and she inspected herself critically. All the kohl eyeliner had been scrubbed away, leaving her naturally dark lashes and hazel eyes bright and clear. She had light bluish circles under her eyes, which she poked at with one fingertip. Those would go away after another couple night's rest. Her headache had faded with the cool water, probably because she'd stood with her mouth open, gulping it down despite the odd flavor.

She stuck her fingers into her hair and shook the chopped style out crazily, sticking her tongue out at the reflection of her shaggy hair. She smiled again this time, widely, but it faded to pursed lips as she considered her imminent talk with her family. Wrapped in her towel, she reentered her old room, put on the oversized shirt back with a pair of baggy sweat pants from the closet, and walked cautiously downstairs.

When she stepped into the kitchen, her heart flip-flopped. She had expected Robert and Irene to be waiting, but instead it was Toby at the table, eating macaroni and cheese and reading a textbook. His curly hair had darkened to a light brown over the years, but his eyes were still a bright blue. He looked up as Sarah walked in, and her excitement at seeing her brother warred with her guilt and embarrassment at the look in his eyes. He had grown since she last saw him, though that was only… four months ago? Maybe longer… she grimaced at her inability to recall when she had last spent time with her little brother.

"Hey," said Toby, putting down his cheese-covered fork.

"Hey Tobes," Sarah replied, pulling out a chair across the table from where he was sitting. She swung it around to face her and straddled it, settling her arms on the backrest. She stared at the wood grain of the table during the awkward silence that followed their greetings. After a moment, she lifted her chin and peered at the book Toby had laying open on the table.

"Biology, huh? That's a fun class. Kinda hard though?"

"Yeah," said Toby, playing with the page corners. "The placement tests were last year, for high school. I scored pretty good."

"Pretty _well_, I think it is."

"_Well_, I didn't score so high in English I guess. Math and science are more interesting," Toby shot back, dropping the pages he was fiddling with. "Besides, you were going to kinda help me out with all that, but… you were usually busy."

Sarah's heart dropped. Talking about her messed up life with Robert and Irene was one thing, but Toby… well, it was better to get it all out now, she decided. She had been a supremely selfish child when she wished him away, and even though she had put her own life on the line to save him, she felt like whatever she had learned from the experience wasn't enough to keep her close to him as he grew up. Even when she wanted to call the house and see how he was doing, or take him out somewhere, there had always been something "more important" to do. It had been an internal struggle for years, and now it had culminated to this awful discussion.

She sighed. "Toby, I'm sorry. I know I've been a really horrible sister." She stared at the table again, unable to meet his eyes. One of her fingers doodled circles on the wood. "It's not because I don't love you, because I do! I love all of you, even Irene, sometimes." Toby made a small chuffing sound that she took as amusement and the edge of Sarah's mouth quirked up momentarily. "I don't know why I act the way I do, really. I want to come home and not feel out of place, but sometimes I feel like I don't fit in anymore. I don't understand why that happens, but it makes me uncomfortable, so I just stay away."

As she finished, she looked up to see Toby's reaction. Her explanation felt empty, but it was all she had – and it was more than she had ever told anybody before. She wouldn't mention the static feeling inside her, because while she was sure it was the whole reason for this mess, she couldn't imagine it making any sense to her family members. They might have her committed, if she told them how it felt to have that strange power zipping through her all the time.

"I know what you mean, about not fitting in," Toby began. Sarah's eyebrows drew together with concern – he couldn't mean – "You seem different than you used to be, I could tell." She gave an internal sigh of relief. He wasn't feeling the same way she did, thankfully.

"I know I was little when you moved out, but before then, you were…" he trailed off, his eyes wandering to the kitchen cabinets as he thought. "You were more Sarah back then. Now you're like, this artist, and you have a life and you go out all the time, and it's like you're in a different world or something."

He looked back to Sarah. "I know that's not always how it is, because Chris has an older sister, and she's married and they have a baby now, but she is still his sister, you know? And sometimes, you still feel like my sister. It's better right now, you feel more like Sarah. But pretty soon you'll just leave again, even if you stay here."

Sarah rocked back in her chair, fingers gripping the slatted back. Dad and Irene chalked it all up to the drugs and drinking, but Toby could tell there was something more. She hadn't considered that, but it comforted her a bit to know it wasn't all in her head.

"I know you love us," Toby said. "_We _know. It's just, weird."

"I promise I'm going to work on it, Toby. I really want something to change this time, and I know I'm the only one that can change anything in me. I have the powahhh!" She held her arms up with her fists clenched, shouting at the ceiling dramatically. This got another low chuckle from Toby, but nothing more. Her promise was anticlimactic, she knew. She'd probably said almost the same thing many times before. Toby seemed to agree, and he fidgeted and moved to a different subject.

"So, mom left you some cash on the counter, I think it's for a taxi. Also your spare keys. She said you would probably need to get some of your own clothes, they didn't think about it when they were at your place last." Toby eyed her ratty borrowed sweatpants. "Those were Dad's. They look dumb on you."

"Yeah, this is not a good look," Sarah muttered, looking towards the front door. "Where are dad and Irene, anyways?"

"At some premiere thing. They won't be back until late, I think." Toby stuck his fork back into his cooling macaroni and cheese and pulled a lumpy mass of noodles into his mouth. "I'mma get back to studying now I guess," he said through the mouthful.

"Okay. I'll be back soon." Sarah climbed out of the chair and swung it back to its normal position. She walked around the table to hug Toby awkwardly from his seat, resting her chin on his head.

"Thanks for being honest with me. It really helps."

Toby patted her arm. "Love you, Sar."

"Love you, too, Tobes."

Sarah grabbed the phone as she walked into the front room to call a taxi. As it rang, she eyed her sequined black high heels that she had arrived in, then looked down at her baggy Big Dog shirt and ratty sweatpants, and couldn't help but laugh.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Sarah entered her apartment holding her shoes, and was immediately grateful that her father had cleaned up the old food in the kitchen. Even without it, there was a rotten smell to the air that did not fit with the modern furnishings. It was a large loft, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountains east of downtown Los Angeles. Those mountains were lit brightly with the afternoon sun, which was what sold Sarah on the loft in the first place. The room was furnished with white couches, dark wood coffee tables, and a shaggy pale rug that covered the light hardwood flooring. Sleek light fixtures hung from the ceiling and perched on the pale walls. A kitchen on the left was filled with stainless appliances and black cabinetry, which clashed with the trashcan underneath the bar. It was overflowing with Chinese take-out containers, empty alcohol bottles, and paper towels spotted with various colors of oil paint.

Tossing the heels towards the full trash can, Sarah set to getting fresh air in the apartment. After pushing windows open and turning on the wide-bladed ceiling fans, she entered her bedroom and drew back the heavy drapes that kept the morning sun out of her usually-hungover eyes. This room was slightly more personalized than the sterile living room, but not by much. The walls were a rich dark brown, and one painting was hung over the king sized bed, which dominated the room. The bedclothes were dark brown satin and white silk, and the nightstands were cluttered with random items. Looking at it in the daylight for the first time since she bought the place, Sarah snorted at the opulence of it all. She pulled open the door to the walk-in closet and selected undergarments, a pair of dark jeans, a dark red slinky tank top, and black flats, dressing quickly.

As she readied herself, she wondered at her lack of fear. Jareth had once been a source of, well, annoyance, and frustration, and intimidation. He was ruthless and selfish and unpredictable, and it would have been smart to approach him with caution. She realized she was treating him like another drug – unsure of its effect on her, but willing to give it a shot. But a man – a _being_ – like him… she shivered. Drugs always had consequences, most of them not worth chancing.

After searching unsuccessfully for her purse (which had probably been lost during her blackout), Sarah dug through her dirty jeans for cash she always left in the pockets, and grabbed a black clutch from her closet. She stood in the middle of her living room, holding her keys and staring at the front door. _Where on earth am I supposed to meet someone like Jareth, to talk about something like… whatever we're going to talk about?_ she thought.

"Ah… Jareth?" she asked aloud, to her empty apartment.

Almost immediately, she felt a sort of presence behind her. Sarah spun around and saw someone relaxing on her couch, reading what looked like a library book on… space? It had a spiral universe picture on it under a clear plastic cover, and there was a little white sticker on the binding for cataloguing and reshelving.

She could feel that the man reading was Jareth _(You can _feel_ that it's him? What's that nonsense?)_, but he looked… mundane. At least compared to his normal appearance. He wore a dark blue shirt that hugged his slim frame and black jeans over black leather boots. His silvery hair was still long, but it fell normally around his face. His angled eyebrows were shaped almost normally around his eyes, which were the only part of him that hadn't changed. The entire picture sent a thrill through her. Even missing the wildness of his normal appearance, the package was quite attractive. Particularly seeing him study a book… it was something she had never considered him doing before.

"Christ, can't you give a little warning when you show up?" Sarah cried, covering up her initial reaction with some righteous annoyance at his entrance. He finally glanced up from the book then, and though she couldn't see his lips, she saw the mischievous smile in his eyes.

"I come when you summon me, Sarah. That is hardly something to complain about, now is it?" He closed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table, standing and stretching his arms up to the ceiling and twisting his back, as though he had been studying for hours.

"Were you in a _library_? Is that why you look like that?" Sarah inquired.

"Yes – what an excellent collection of strange literature you have in this world. Fascinating, though some of it is rubbish." He cracked open the space book again, flipping through pages. "Good observations, but there is only so far you are able to go before you just give things a name and move on. Understandable, considering your limitations." He raised an eyebrow at Sarah, grinning. "Maybe I should say _their_ limitations?"

Sarah's eyebrow rose in return, and she eyed him curiously.

"Shall we discuss your enigmatic clues now, Goblin King?" Sarah asked, motioning towards the door.

He looked at the door, and noted Sarah's purse.

"Not here? This _is _your home, is it not?" He looked around at her decorations. "It's…," he trailed off.

"Someone recommended a designer, and I just let them do what they wanted. I suppose I could have given then _some_ direction," she shrugged, "but I didn't really care at the time. I just liked the view." She gestured behind him with a shake of her head, and circled him to walk to the glass windows.

She stood in front of the glass, clasping her hands behind her back. She saw Jareth's reflection as he stepped up beside her on her left, and heard his slow exhale at the sight of the mountaintops still glowing with the last rays of sunlight. The city, fourteen stories below, was sparking with lights, and she saw the flashing red-and-blues of a tiny police car weaving in and out of the crowded streets.

"That is an excellent view indeed," Jareth admitted. He looked askance at Sarah. "Very nice. Why not talk here?"

"Most of this place just has bad memories. Bad vibes."

"Most of it? Where are there good memories?"

Sarah bit her lip. Her studio was here, the small second bedroom past the kitchen. Her eyes flickered past him, and Jareth's followed her glance. The door was locked (though she had a spare in her room), and she'd never let anybody else in, not even her manager. It was one of the few places she felt was hers, where she could be anybody she wanted, even with the charged feeling inside her.

"Stay here." Sarah retrieved the key from a hook underneath the bed frame, and strode past Jareth to the locked door.

"This is what I've been doing the last ten years, I guess. This, and drinking. I remember you asking last night." She unlocked the door and pushed it inwards. It swung into a shadowy, messy room, lit only by the same afternoon sun that made its way into the living room. She stuck her head in, then motioned behind her for Jareth to follow as she entered.

The crunch of his boots on the newspaper covering the floor was loud in her ears. She closed the door behind him – it had never felt right to let the air of the apartment flow freely in and out of the studio, for some reason. She watched Jareth look around at the jumble of canvasses, easels, paint-covered rags, and boxes of paint tubes.

Where the rest of the apartment lacked color, this room was crowded with it. Most of the canvasses were painted, and all depicted vibrant clashing colors in twisting designs. All of it was abstract, with the occasional face visible in the sinuous brush lines. She knew that her experience in the Labyrinth had influenced her art, and from Jareth's curious expression, he noticed it too. Nothing really resembled the sparkling stone walls and fantastic creatures she had encountered, but there were certainly echoes of the Escher room through many of the finished pieces.

For that matter, the walls in the studio had not escaped her art. When manic, or depressed, or sometimes on LSD, she would bring a two inch brush to the walls, expressing her feelings through squiggly designs or harsh sharp strokes in vivid primary colors. It looked like a crazy person had been given a brush, and from her own experience, Sarah didn't doubt that she had almost completely lost it a few times, venting her confusion and frustration in here.

Seeing Jareth step slowly through her private room, inspecting her paintings with obvious interest, was somehow cathartic. He had abandoned his "normal" costume on the way in, and his traditional ensemble fit in quite well with the atmosphere in the room. It was annoying, that someone like him was making her feel better, but she was going to get some answers. Righting a three-legged stool and sitting down, she waited until he had finished perusing her art.

Pausing at a small rectangle of paper that had stuck to her workdesk in a blob of blue paint, Jareth leaned over to read it.

"You sell these paintings?" he asked.

"Yeah. They're pretty popular, I guess."

"It appears so. I don't believe that's a small sum of money in your world, is it?"

"I get by pretty well. I mean, this is a nice place. And I have savings. It's not really for the money though, that's just a bonus. I think, if I didn't paint, I'd have lost it a long time ago." Sarah kicked at the newspaper under her feet. "I've never let anybody in here before."

At this admission, Jareth turned from the wall he was admiring and eyed Sarah without expression. "Of course not."

This was not the answer she had expected. "Why aren't you surprised?"

Settling on a wooden bench with one ankle crossed across his knee, he leaned back against the same wall and laced his hands behind his head casually.

"I don't think anybody from this world could have even entered if you had asked. Your aura is all over it, warding nearly everything. It was apparently subconscious, but effective."

"But you just came in!"

"Yes, but I am… something other than human, wouldn't you say?" At her shrug, Jareth laughed. "Also, you invited me. I would have had a difficult time had you not." He paused for a moment, thinking. "The last time we saw each other – not last night, mind, but many years ago – you said something to defeat me." He pursed his lips with irritation, clearly not enjoying this part of the story. "'You have no power over me!' You must remember that."

"Of course," replied Sarah, urging him along this change of topic.

"How do you think that you, a human female, and an adolescent one at that, could have possibly escaped my magic?" Here, his eyes narrowed as he watched Sarah. "Your imagination? Your indomitable spirit? Your love for your brother?" He chuckled. Tapping a slender finger against his lips, he shrugged a bit at the last one. "Love for the boy, maybe. But it would have had to be selfless love, and considering the circumstances under which you traveled my Labyrinth, I do not think that was the case."

"I do love Toby," Sarah muttered, staring between her knees at the newspaper. Her conversation with him this afternoon still stung, and she dismissed Jareth's jibe rather than fight.

"Oh, I'm sure. But _selfless?_ Nobody is truly selfless. And as such, no mere human could extricate themselves from my power. But something more than human – that gives you a chance."

Jareth leaned forward with his hands on the bench, stressing his words clearly. In the rapidly fading light, his silvery hair shone, and the shadows on his face made him look animalistic. "You took away my power over you, Sarah. You made it your power, and that is how you won. But it is that same power that you have been fighting the last ten years, Sarah, and without my help, this time you are going to lose."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This one is rather long, and I cut it off, because… I like cliffhangers? HA! I don't like cliffhangers at all! At least, not when I'm reading! I hope you will forgive me. Srs plot development is poised to... uh, develop. I am always so much more interested in the S/J dynamic, but I can't leave out the families.

I used the C word as a curse, I am sorry if this offends. I couldn't find anything else that fit right in my head.

Also, I'm pretty sure I fixed some lame errors (like, oh, I don't know, changing from Irene to Karen between chapters – awkward!) in the earlier chapters. If you catch something and want to let me know, you are welcome to do so.

Please review! Even if it's bad! I like having feedback. Also, thank you to my silent story-alerters. I love getting those notifications.

I do not own Sarah or Jareth, but I would like to own that loft, please.


	6. 06 Stars

**Chapter Six - Stars**

"There is a great deal to explain, and I'm not sure exactly where to start."

Sarah heard Jareth finally resume talking after the prolonged silence that followed his morbid announcement. She looked around the studio dazedly. She sat on the wobbly stool near the side wall, where the studio door was firmly closed. Across from her was the Goblin King, perched on a wide wooden bench, examining a spot of newspaper on the floor as he gathered his thoughts. Looking to her right, Sarah stared at the mountains, which were glowing amber brown from the setting sun. The warm light bathed her paintings and the creature sitting across from her in buttery hues, making Jareth's hair glow gold.

"What about my 'aura'?" Sarah asked. "Is that a good place to start? You've mentioned it before, I'm assuming it's my… power."

"Yes, and no. But that is a less awkward place to begin, I suppose." Looking at her wearily, he grimaced. "I had hoped you would just, you know, figure this out. You were always a resourceful one." He waved his hand airily in her direction as he said this, and a crystal slid out from his palm to roll across his gloved knuckles. Sarah whistled quietly in spite of herself; she had forgotten how fluid his motions could be. With his free hand, he waved her over and patted the empty space on the bench to his right. Hesitantly, she crossed the small room and sat on the edge of the wood, as far from touching him as she could manage.

"I shall begin with what humans have discovered, however erroneous." Rolling the ball into his right hand and balancing it on his fingertips, Jareth raised the crystal between the two of them. Sarah's peered at it, initially seeing only the warped reflections of the chaotic room around them. After a moment, her vision clouded rapidly, and the room disappeared.

She could still feel the wooden bench underneath her, making her shift uncomfortably at the edge that was digging into her rear, but in her vision, she was formless. Everything around her was inky black, and her eyes strained to focus on something. One twinkling light appeared, then another, and in moments, an entire universe of stars bloomed into existence around her. Unable to help herself, she laughed in surprise, clapping her hands with glee. It was beautiful; there was no dark space that did not have some slight twinkling, some flickering barely visible as if from a great distance. She could see in the brightest, closest pinpricks of light that they were not stars, but galaxies, thousands of them. The entire panorama looked like a suspension of diamond dust.

When Jareth continued, she could hear his smile through his words, and she found herself blushing yet again in his presence.

"Humans appear to have a fascination with the universe. They build bulky instruments with fat lenses and strain their eyes upward and outward, trying to learn how it all works. It's adorable, really. You even send yourselves out in little metal cans to circle your lovely island of a planet, all in the name of what you call 'science'."

The stars shifted, or Sarah shifted – it was hard to tell which – and the swaths of glitter became streaks of light. Slowing abruptly, she found herself in front of what she recognized as the Pillars of Creation. The beautiful nebula glowed in vivid shades of green and yellow and pink, its stellar dust catching and refracting light from the stars bursting to life within it. In the studio, her body finally gave up on perching uncomfortably on the bench and slid back to settle against the wall.

"Human 'scientists' discover amazing phenomena in the universe, but they don't really understand it. They can tell something is there because they can measure and observe and compare, but for so many discoveries, they get to a point where they cannot test anything further. Phenomena are given names, and certain qualities, but there, human understanding ends.

"In particular, there are two 'discoveries' that puzzle even the most intelligent of humans, and it is those two anomalies that you are now a part of." Jareth's voice, with its lilting accent, was hypnotic in its lecturing, and Sarah felt herself being pulled into a relaxing, trance-like state. "Dark matter is the amusingly vague name given to the undetectable matter that scientists have discovered in the universe. They can determine it is there, because the normal matter they can observe – galaxies and interstellar dust – does not account for the mass present in the universe. But they cannot see it, and they cannot determine its origins, and they will never understand it."

Sarah circled the Pillars of Creation slowly, though in some part of her mind, she understood she would have to be travelling many times the speed of light to circle such a huge nebula. Rather than try to wrap her head around this, she listened intently to Jareth's explanation. "Humans will never, ever, quite get to figuring out what dark matter is, because I am dark matter. The Labyrinth is dark matter, the 'Underground' is dark matter. A part of you is dark matter, now, but I will explore that with you later. The realms of magic are a blind spot for most humans. Even so, they have really done a lovely job tackling the question. That they even found it is impressive, I suppose.

"And now for a bit of math. I hope you don't mind?" queried Jareth.

"Hmm. No, that's fine," Sarah said distractedly. She shifted her weight on the bench again, and twisted to lean against the hard support on her left. Only vaguely aware of this, Sarah's consciousness was thrust into the center of the bright nebula, surrounding her field of vision with fluorescently glowing dust particles and blindingly glittering points of light.

Jareth made a low humming sound of contentment before continuing. "Matter observable by human scientists accounts for only a fraction of the mass-energy in the universe. Even adding their "dark matter", that still leaves almost 75% of the mass-energy in the universe that can be calculated, but not observed or proven by humans. Without getting too far into Einstein's theories, would you agree that there is a great deal for which science has no explanation?"

"They call it dark energy. The rest of it," Sarah replied, surprising herself. She'd been known to watch the Science Channel often, but she was always surprised when she remembered something, considering her drinking habits.

"Oh, very good," Jareth murmured appreciatively. "They call it that, yes. But they really know nothing about it, less than they know about "dark matter". Great men are tearing their hair out over this phenomenon. Everything they have determined so far is hypothetical at best, and will never come to any deeper understanding. They are trying to look at auras, at magic, and it is only seen when it chooses to be seen."

Sarah felt her weight shift on the bench as her support moved, and realization flooded into her mind, yanking her consciousness out of the stunning Pillar nebula. Dust and stars and sparkling clouds flew past her eyes, and she thumped almost painfully back into her physical body, which was leaning quite familiarly against Jareth's side. His arm hovered over her shoulders cautiously with the crystal rolling on his slender fingers. The flickering universe shrank inside the ball before fading into the chaotic studio reflections on the glossy surface.

Unmindful of the crystal ball, Sarah shoved herself from her leaning position to scramble away from Jareth. In her panic, her hand came down on Jareth's upper leg for support, and she felt the muscles tighten at her weight. Mortified, Sarah scooted down to the far end of the bench, her face flushing bright red and her hands holding her head, avoiding eye contact. _What the hell was that?_ Fueling her embarrassment was Jareth's laughter, which rang in her ears.

"Oh gods, but this is fun!" he exclaimed, vanishing the crystal ball within his gloved hand. Standing up dramatically, he faced Sarah, who was staring straight ahead, persistently avoid looking anywhere near him. The light from the setting sun was nearly gone, and the studio was cloaked in various blue shadows. "You are skittish, and flushing, and tormenting you is almost irresistible," he purred.

"You are unnerving! And I am a little overwhelmed! Don't get cocky." said Sarah shakily, standing up as well. Focusing on the dark corner of the room next to the door, she counted to five slowly, and then consciously relaxed the tension built up in her shoulders and back. Taking a few slow breaths, she tried to gather her thoughts, but tensed up again when she felt Jareth's hand on her shoulder.

"While I do so enjoy this exchange, it appears you are at a slight disadvantage, and that ruins the fun of it all. I'm going to give you a first lesson on controlling your aura. Can you manage looking to me for just a moment?"

Nodding, Sarah took a deep breath, smelling the cool spice of him and the leather jacket he wore. Exhaling, she turned to meet Jareth's eyes. Even in the growing shadows, she could see they were still sparkling with laughter, and not a small amount of heat. The combination sent a thrill down her spine, and she shivered, clasping her hands in front of her. Everything was moving so quickly, she needed to get herself settled down before she could even consider the implications of what Jareth had told her. Getting _away_ from him would be helpful as well, she admitted reluctantly.

"I am going to remove the shield I placed last night," he warned her. "We might need a moment to compose ourselves after, as I have reason to believe you're going to be radiating fairly strongly at the moment." He grinned at her, and despite her worry, she felt the corner of her lip twitch up in response. "If you can learn to rein it in on your own, you will maybe be a bit more clear-headed. It may not make much sense as I explain, but please try to follow along." Sarah's eyes narrowed at his condescending tone, but she nodded and Jareth stepped back a pace, holding his hand out towards her as he had in her bedroom.

A tight feeling tugged in Sarah's chest, like someone was pulling a rock out of sticky mud. The tension increased until she felt a _pop_, and with that release came a torrent of electricity radiating from her breastbone, out through her arms and legs, to tingle almost painfully in her fingertips and toes. Her breath caught, and she stumbled backwards to crash against an empty easel, barely steadying herself in time. It surprised her that the studio was still dark – she felt as though she should be emitting harsh white light through her very skin.

Jareth's reaction was equally as shocking. He bent over slightly with his hands holding his abdomen, as if she had punched him in the gut, but steadied himself with one leg behind him. It looked suspiciously like he was ready to attack her. She watched his eyes dilate, so that both pupils were inky pools, glazed over as he stared at her. His lips parted briefly in a breathless pant, before his sharp teeth clenched so hard she could see the muscles working in his jaw and neck. After hearing his breath come quickly through his clenched teeth for a moment, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he straightened up, cracking his neck audibly. He shook his arms out sharply, settling them at his sides, though his fists were curled up so tightly that his knuckles were pale.

His words came out carefully and evenly, as though he were forcing them to slow down. "Are you well?" he asked.

"Ahhh, I think?"

"Okay. Pull in onthe edges. Can you feel what I mean?"

Sarah looked down at herself, though she couldn't see any of the spark that was flowing through her. She felt that it had a sort of terminus as it met her skin – it was the physical feeling of the electricity pushing through her pores. She tugged at it – not with her mind, but with something inside her, and felt it shrink away from her slightly. Her eyebrows rose and her gaze flew up to Jareth's eyes again as she pulled harder, curling the power out of her extremities and compressing it within her chest.

Sarah watched Jareth relax as she worked, and by the time she had compressed the power into a tiny ball within herself, he seemed almost relaxed again. She smiled tentatively, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I can control it!" she whispered.

"You should be able to keep it reined in like that without much trouble, for now," Jareth explained. "You can shield yourself, which I suggest for the time being – wrap the edge around itself. Do you understand?" Nodding, Sarah pulled the edges of the power around the ball, like wrapping a globe with a napkin. The presence in her chest became the clean vibration of power she had felt the first night out of the detox ward, and she experimented slightly with unwrapping and expanding her aura.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked as she experimented.

"Hehe. No, you did not hurt me. You…" he had a knowing grin on his face.

Sarah closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay. Yeah."

Not willing to be put off, Jareth put on a mockingly curious expression, tapping his temple with a gloved finger. "It was not unlike the night not long ago, when you called for me – I declined to attend the party, as, despite your invitation, it appeared to be an exclusive engagement—"

"Oh god, you heard."

"Oh yes. I did not intrude though. Your cry was touching, but you were not in your right mind, somehow."

"That's right! I was not!" Sarah grasped on this flimsy reed. "I was completely tossed, and I had no idea what I was doing. It was absolutely not intentional. I had been drinking. A lot."

Jareth's exaggeratedly curious look became a legitimate one, and after a moment's hesitation, he began to walk towards the studio door. Opening it and gesturing grandly with one arm, he asked politely "It is getting late, Sarah dear, and you have a family to make reparations with. Now that I have enlightened you a bit, shall we discuss this 'drinking' as I walk you home?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hmm, spacey. And spicy, a little. I hope it all makes sense – if you are not familiar with the space things I mentioned, I assure you I did not make them up. I added some links to my profile if you're interested.

Please review! I love reviews!

I don't own anything from the Labyrinth.


	7. 07 A Walk

**Chapter Seven – A Walk**

Sarah felt the unusually humid summer air blow her hair back as Jareth opened the building's glass lobby doors for her. Holding her duffel bag out in front of her, she snaked by him and quickly descended the granite stairs to the sidewalk, waiting for him to catch up before starting the walk up the street. It occurred to her briefly that her parent's house was far from "walking distance" from her apartment, but the thought of sitting in a cab with the Goblin King was both horrifying and ridiculous.

In response to her silent snort of laughter, Jareth, clothed again in what she was referring to as his "civilian gear", slipped his arm through hers and smoothly tugged her elbow to his side, pulling her against him in an unnervingly intimate manner. Rather than struggle out, Sarah kept her eyes on the pools of light from the streetlamps as they walked. It was only a moment before his questions began.

"Alcohol. Is that what you've been doing these years?"

Sarah tried to shrug, which came out awkwardly against his shoulder. Sighing in frustration, she replied, "Not just alcohol. Lots of things. Drugs. Whatever. I've also been painting, I went to school – why don't you care about that stuff?"

"Oh, I'm certainly interested in all your mundane human activities, precious. But now is not the time."

Considering briefly the little ball of power she felt buzzing in her core, she was inclined to agree – but not inclined to discuss her substance habits. Scuffing her black flats against the cement as they walked, she worked to tell as little as possible on the subject.

"I started drinking around 18 or so. It was fun, I made more friends. I liked that it sort of took me out of reality, I didn't have to be in control of anything."

She could almost feel him smiling next to her, and a quick glance up at him confirmed it. His eyes narrowed as he grinned. "You only had one bite of the peach. It wasn't quite enough for you, was it?"

Mortified and angry, Sarah yanked her arm out of Jareth's and stopped, swinging her duffel bag at him with a shriek. "Shut up! I don't want to talk about my damn drinking habits! Just fix whatever is going on and get the hell out of here!" He had danced out of the way of the swinging black bag. Sarah felt it thump against the wall behind her as she stood defensively, staring at Jareth with wild eyes. His eyes met hers with a cold glare.

"Sarah, this is obviously quite upsetting to you –"

"_Shut up!_" She dropped the duffel bag, raising her palms up to press against her forehead. A small part of her mind knew she was making a scene, but she could feel the pressure of the events of the last few days starting to push her over the already frayed edge. "Of course I'm upset! All I want is a drink, but instead I have to pretend I want to stop! You show up with your bullshit magic crap, and you're not just going to go away! You're _flirting _with me! I'm going to have to fight you, or your damn Labyrinth, but I'm too damn tired! I don't want to do anything!" With this last exclamation, Sarah dropped her arms and curled her hands into fists at her side, standing rigidly. Her chest heaved, and she found herself unable to meet Jareth's eyes. A moment later, she dug into her pocket for her cell phone. Cursing loudly as she remembered her purse was missing in action, she grabbed her duffel bag and started back towards her apartment building.

Before she could take two steps, her head smacked sharply into the wall behind her. Pressed against the length of her body was Jareth's, pinning her against the building. The duffel bag dropped from her limp fingers, and she struggled to focus her eyes through the bright stars of pain resonating in her skull. Over his shoulder, she noted the pedestrians across the street seemed to have slowed, almost stopped – as if they were moving through jelly. Jareth's breath hissed hotly against her ear, and her heart pounded wildly against his chest.

"You selfish girl," he breathed fiercely. "I came here to help you, and you have no more sense in you now than the spoiled sixteen year old who pranced through my Labyrinth." Regaining some of her clarity, Sarah raised her hands in an attempt to push Jareth back. He grabbed her wrists and held them against the bricks, still warm from the day's heat. "At least then, you had determination, however misplaced. You took your victory and left my world, and you've spent the last decade ignoring your responsibility to the power that victory bestowed upon you."

His posture softened slightly, and he straightened to look down his nose at her. His lighthearted mood had vanished, and his lips had curled into an expression of disgust.

"Your little 'friends' stopped calling upon you because they disappeared. They are no longer in my kingdom. Did you know that?" asked Jareth, searching her face. Her concerned expression prompted him to continue.

"When they vanished, so did you. Well," he released one of her hands to wave his fingers flippantly up towards the streetlamps, "you didn't vanish, but you were significantly harder to locate in this world. And when I found you, you were… filthy. Tainted, with your lifestyle. I've done what I can to help you, to give you a chance to clean yourself up, and you just want to, to—"

Sarah struggled with the sight of Jareth, searching for words. She remembered his smooth ability so well, this momentarily speechlessness was more than disturbing. Rather than fight him, she attempted to slowly extricate herself from his grip, wiggling against the wall to shimmy sideways.

"And I do not _flirt_, Sarah." She stopped and watched his lips twist around the word, making it sound petty. "I know what you've dreamed, dear Sarah. _Flirting_ implies that I would have to attract your attention, and we both know that's not necessary." His hips pushed against hers painfully, and her face heated instantly. She knew she had flushed bright red, and turned her head away from his scrutiny. He used it as an opening, dipping his head to brush those expressive lips against the side of her bare neck. His breath raised goosebumps on her skin, and she inhaled sharply. "I am attempting to inject a bit of levity into a dismal situation, for both our sakes. I assure you," he said, leaning away, "we are long past _flirting_."

As he released her arms and stepped away, Sarah absently reached up to rub the back of her head, contemplating the cement between her feet. The tornado of thoughts in her brain had momentarily stopped spinning at the pressure of Jareth's lips on her neck, but as she tried to resolve his lust and the anger he'd expressed at her willingness to give up, the chaos roared back to life.

Glancing up, a half a block ahead, a red neon martini glowed on the side of a high-rise building. "I still want a drink," she muttered dismally.

Jareth, to her surprise, swung downward to pick up her bag and tugged her down the sidewalk in the original direction they had been headed. "You may have your drink. Lead the way. It's likely the last you'll have for quite some time. If you want any of this to just 'go away', you have work to do. But not here, and not in the Labyrinth. Your own kingdom is festering."

"My own _kingdom?_"

"Yes, Sarah. You've got your dark energy, and with that comes dark matter. You've got land, directly connected to you, and it's not going to be a pretty place after what you've been doing."

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><p><strong>AN: **I still exist. Apologies for the delay, this is a bit of a shorter chapter just to remind people that this story is here. The next chapter is already started.

I went back and changed some things. There's no more Gaelic in the story – it just wasn't fitting in with the space stuff I'm using, and I had another idea for the Gaelic in a one-off. Sorry if you hate it all now.

Please review, good or bad!

I don't own Jareth or Sarah or 'friends' or nothin'. I could own that martini sign though, maybe. That's about it.


	8. 08 Pause

**Chapter Eight - Pause**

The bar was a long, narrow room, crowded with tall tables, loud patrons, and a bar along the right wall that was sorely in need of a wipe-down. Despite her habits and the bar's proximity, Sarah had only been here once, shortly after she bought the loft. She didn't like the looks she got from the regulars, and had been afraid of being followed on her short walk back to her apartment building. She still attracted a few glances, but felt assured by Jareth's presence that none would make any uncomfortable advances.

She had ordered drinks, and now sat across the table from the Goblin King, watching him sniff disdainfully at his beverage. She hadn't known what to order him – she had briefly considered a Fuzzy Navel, or Sex on the Beach, but after their tiff on the street, she felt it might be better not to antagonize him. She also didn't mention the shot she had ordered and downed while standing at the bar. He'd said they would be the last drinks she would have for a while, and she believed him, unfortunately.

"It smells awful," he commented, his nose wrinkling in distaste. Rather than sip, he quickly gulped down half of the vodka cranberry, waving his hand at one wheezing cough from the burn of the liquor. "It tastes slightly less repellent – an acquired taste, clearly." He set the glass down in the middle of the table, far enough away that it was obvious he was done with his experiment. Sarah held her rum & coke possessively in front of her, nursing it, as Jareth leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Can you take this seriously, Sarah, or am I wasting my time?" he asked. His unnerving eyes bored into hers, shadowed by the dim bar lighting. Sarah nodded, a bit taken aback by his tone. "Yes; I can be serious. Earlier was just-," she hesitated, embarrassed. "I'm listening," she replied.

He seemed to be placated by her simple answer, and leaned back into his chair to explain. "You earned your own power, I've explained that much. But it's somewhat like mass equals energy, and vice versa. Your power has a physical manifestation, to which you are directly connected. Take, for example, the Labyrinth."

Sarah could easily recall the ease with which the Goblin King had manipulated his maze to frustrate her. Nodding, she replied, "Yeah, you were able to control it. How could I forget?"

She was happy to see that this comment elicited a quick tug at the corner of his lips – hardly a grin, but it was an improvement over the attitude she'd aroused earlier. "It responds to me. You saw the response to conscious direction from my thoughts. However, my kingdom is also shaped by my subconscious. I don't recall ever deciding one evening 'I believe I shall be surrounded by a maze.' It simply grew, spreading out from whatever is in here." Jareth tapped the side of his head.

At this, Sarah's brow furrowed in thought. "Do you even want it to be a maze?" she asked.

Jareth shrugged. "I can't imagine what else it _should_ be. The Labyrinth is my home, it is twisting and dangerous and enticing. I have never thought to make such a fundamental change, or how I would even go about it. Incidentally, this information would likely be quite convenient to have, considering your situation." Lacing his fingers together behind his head, Jareth tilted his chair back and watched Sarah, clearly waiting for her input. His dark blue shirt pulled up at his waist, exposing a sliver of pale skin. It was only after slowly draining her drink and setting the glass down with an icy _clink_ that she spoke.

"I've got a kingdom, somewhere in space, that's been growing over the last ten years?" It was hard to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"That is correct," said Jareth with a nod.

She toyed with her glass, rolling it in circles on the bottom rim. There was no need to think back on her past; she could remember clearly all the times she had tried to drown all her feelings of being different, and the growing power inside of her. The outcomes of such attempts were disturbing at best. "It's probably a pretty sinister place, then." She got no reply from him to this, and spent a moment more considering the ring of condensation she was making on the table, before she let the glass thump down. "What happens if I can't clean it all up?" she asked, not knowing the specific answer, but understanding it would be bad. Jareth shrugged.

"I don't know for certain. You could cease to exist eventually. Just _poof_, gone." His face turned pensive. "You could begin to deteriorate physically, along with the land, until you rotted. Maybe you would lose your mind, be forever lost in the dream."

Sarah waved her hand at him, stopping his musing aloud. "Okay, I get it. Nevermind."

Her suddenly wide eyes caught Jareth's, and she whispered "Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo - you said they're gone? Are they in _my_ kingdom?"

Jareth simply shrugged again, though he offered no other explanation for their disappearance.

Momentarily stunned, Sarah thought over this possibility. If they were no longer in in the Goblin City or the Labyrinth, then they were either dead and gone, or in her own world. Refusing to consider the worst, she stood up hastily, pushing her chair out behind her with a loud scraping noise. Her sudden movement brought a wash of warmth and dizziness from the alcohol finally hitting her brain.

"I've got to find them! They- for ten years! Oh, god!" She started looking frantically around the room, panicking. She heard Jareth speak, but didn't hear what he said. She had to think, figure out the next step to take, _do something!_ Only after he repeated himself loudly - "Sarah, _SIT!_" did she register and obey, nearly missing the edge of the chair.

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose, his piercing eyes closed in an attempt to regain patience. After a moment, he reopened his eyes and regarded her with an expression of exaggerated calmness. "If I recall correctly, you learned to _think _before taking action, when you ran my Labyrinth. You can try saving your friends while you are repairing your kingdom - if they are even there - but those three are only a small part of the challenge ahead of you. I can bring you to the beginning, but once you begin on this path, you're not going to be able to turn back. Do you understand?"

Sarah nodded. The effects of the alcohol were calming her slightly, as well as bolstering her courage. For good measure, she snagged Jareth's abandoned drink and swallowed it down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Setting the glass down carefully next to her own empty one, she relaxed slightly in her chair and eyed the Goblin King suspiciously.

"Why are you even helping? I know there is a bit of... _interesting_ tension between us, but we didn't exactly part on good terms. You don't strike me as anybody who would tolerate rejection very well. I'd expect you to leave me to my own devices."

Jareth snorted in derision. "With disastrous results, I'm sure." Dismissing the angry expression on her face, he continued. "Yes, you bested my Labyrinth, and turned down a quite generous offer. Even so, I would have assisted you in establishing your own realm, had you requested help. As things stand now, the young lady to whom I made my offer is long gone. I am here primarily because your realm is somewhat connected to mine, and I grow quite tired of trying to keep your darkness from intruding into the Goblin City." His eyes left her face, taking in her figure. "I do not deny that you are still physically arresting, but I must admit that your 'adult' personality does not lend to any further attraction." Catching her gaze again, Jareth _tsk_'d, pursing his lips. "Awful waste."

Sarah sat, dumbfounded. This was not how she had imagined it would be, this reconnection with the creature that had changed her life irrevocably. In her daydreams, he was always reiterating his first offer, sweetening it up - or sometimes, simply whisking her away from her miserable life, while she put up some token resistance. The reality of this meeting was a harsh awakening. She knew she'd been aimless, and reckless, since she turned eighteen, but she'd been so successful at avoiding introspection that she had never really considered how far down the scale she had fallen. She prodded mentally at the buzzing feeling inside, the power she had. Nor had she considered that Jareth, too, would have changed in the time that had passed since their last encounter.

Unable to decide whether to be angry or embarrassed, she shifted her feet uncomfortably under Jareth's scrutiny. Before she could talk herself out of it, she resolutely said "Okay. I'll take care of it." Looking at a neon beer clock on the wall to her right, Sarah scrunched her nose as she counted for a moment. "Thirteen hours, that doesn't pass the same here... I'll need to think of something to tell my family before I go-"

"Oh no, dear Sarah. Those are _my_ rules," Jareth purred. Sarah hesitated, looking from the clock to his amused expression. "I have no idea where you are going, or what _your_ rules are. There may be none at all." In one fluid motion, he stood and extended his hand to Sarah. "If you wish to talk to your family first, I shall arrange for that. After matters have been settled, I will take you to your gate. Are you ready?"

After a moment's pause, Sarah took his hand, and in an instant, the world twisted and went dark.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Sarah thumped down onto dry grass. She looked around with a dazed expression, recognizing after a few moments that she had landed in her parent's front yard. The two story house loomed out of the darkness, lit by a number of landscaping lights in the front planters. The porch light was still on, but the front windows were dark. Through the sheer curtains, Sarah could see the dim glow of a light, probably from one of the upstairs rooms.

She stood up and brushed her rear absently, spotting Jareth a few feet away. He was faced slight away from her, examining whatever he could see in one of his crystals. She was surprised to note that the scene he was viewing in the orb was spilling a small amount of light onto his face. The cornsilk hair shone transparently, drifting errantly in the night breeze. His civilian clothing had once again been replaced by his normal fashion, and she took her first opportunity to study him without his unnerving eyes watching and calculating her expressions. He looked exactly the same as she had remembered; ten years worth of time had not seemed to affect him at all. From his wild hair, her eyes traveled the strong line of his shoulders, down his tapering torso, and along the muscular angles of his legs. His soft, black leather boots looked well-worn, and she noted curiously that the black pants hugging his calves and thighs had smudges of dirt along the sides of his legs. A billowy white shirt, one that reminded her of the one she had worn upon her hours in the Labyrinth, was tucked into a wide black leather belt. Sarah concluded, after looking down at her jeans and tank top, that she was not at all dressed for the sort of trip upon which she was embarking.

With a flip of his wrist, Jareth's crystal disappeared. He turned toward her, his face falling into shadows. "You have ten minutes, or thereabouts. Your decision to enter your kingdom has opened the portal, but the longer you wait, the smaller your window of opportunity will be. I will prepare for your arrival." And, with that, he was suddenly not there.

Before approaching the house, Sarah stood for a moment with her head tilted back, pondering the stars. Jareth's demeanor towards her had changed significantly since her tantrum in the city. He had first treated her as though she were simply lost, and needed some guidance to veer back onto the right path. But as he heard about her history, and analyzed her personality, his attitude had turned impatient, even disdainful. He was disappointed in her, and it irked her that his opinion had any weight with her at all.

She began walking up the pathway to the front door of her parent's house - the house from which she had wished Toby away, a dozen years ago. The warm, late summer evening air stirred the hairs framing her face, tickling her cheeks, and she heard a distant police siren let out one urgent _whooop!_ before cutting off. She kicked at a weed sprouted up between the bricks as she thought about what she would tell her family. She had left for long periods of time before, but usually without any warning. Knowing she would be gone, not knowing for how long - she could only think of one thing to tell them that might go over well.

Once inside the house, she wandered toward the family room, which was dark, and peeked in the equally dark kitchen before heading up the stairs towards the light. Toby's bedroom door was open, spilling warm yellow and faint fighting noises into the hallway. She stood for a moment in the doorway, watching him play a computer game. He ran his character around an unrealistic forest of vivid blue mushrooms and phosphorescent insects, killing things with a glowing sword. When it looked like he was out of imminent danger, she spoke up.

"Hey, Tobes."

At the sound of her voice, he jumped, knocking the keyboard tray loudly and spinning around with a high-pitched curse. He glared as he saw her. "Shit, Sarah! Why'd you do that?"

She held her palms out, stepping back a little. "Sorry! I thought you heard me get home!. Are Dad & Irene back yet?" she asked.

Toby shook his head, glancing back at the computer screen briefly to make sure nobody was attacking his well-armored elf creature. "Nah, still at the premiere thing. Or maybe an after party now, I don't know." He glanced at the digital clock on the bookshelf next to his desk. "It's only 10. You wanna watch a movie, or something?"

Sarah grimaced. "Oh man, I would, but -"

Before she could finish, Toby swung his computer chair back to the screen, taking the mouse in his hand again. "S'ok."

"No, Toby, it's not like that." Sarah said, taking a few steps into the room. "I'm going to go to rehab. Inpatient and everything. For however long it takes to get better." She stood for a moment, waiting to see if Toby would reply. After a moment, he turned his chair slightly, looking at her from over his shoulder.

"That's really good, Sar. I'm glad." He glanced at the clock again, and then back to her. "Right now?"

She pursed her lips, then nodded. "Yeah, kinda."

"Where's your stuff?" he asked.

Sarah looked at her hands, then out the window of the office, though this room faced the backyard, not the front of the house, where she had been deposited. "Shit," she said, thinking back. It was still in the bar, underneath their table. "I... forgot it at the bar," she mumbled, shoulders slumping.

Toby stared at her for a moment, his eyes sad. Sarah met his eyes, her expression desperate. "I'm a mess, Toby," she said, wringing her hands. "I am so tired, but I'm so afraid," she continued, thinking aloud. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm sorry."

Toby's mouth quirked up in an attempt to smile. "It'll be okay," he said vaguely. "Just go do whatever you have to do, I guess. We'll be here," he assured her, swinging his chair back towards the computer monitor. His little armored character didn't resume his killing spree, though. Sarah waited for a moment, unsure what to do. She could hear Toby breathing in the heavy silence. The conversation felt incomplete, but there was nothing she could think of to say that could make it right. She opened her mouth to speak anyways, but snapped it shut as she felt an odd pull from the front of the house. It tugged at her once, twice, and then disappeared.

She stood, paralyzed. The momentary comfort of the drinks she'd had dissolved in a flood of panic. Her heart raced, and hands she had been wringing suddenly went cold and damp. She was out of time. The digital clock read 10:04 in blue glowing numbers. Such an insignificant number, she thought. Not thirteen, not even really the top of an hour. Just a number.

"Bye, Toby," she choked out in whisper. He didn't reply, and she realized she could no longer hear him breathing. The colon on the clock had stopped blinking as well, she noticed offhandedly. The air tasted flat. dead. The mysterious tugging snagged her again, and she slowly walked out the room and down the stairs, running her hand along the bannister, trying to memorize the feel of being in her childhood home.

Outside, everything felt dull, muffled. A car sat in the middle of the street near the house, the silhouette of a person in the driver's seat. It sat in the lane, but wasn't going anywhere. The headlights looked painted on, not illuminating the asphalt at all, as if even the light had been stopped. One of Jareth's crystals hung just off the brick walkway up to the house. It wasn't glowing, just hovering there at shoulder-height, and she took a deep, shaky breath as she approached it.

Her hand reached out. Reflected on the crystal was the distorted face of a beautiful young woman, onyx hair mussed, green eyes shining, lip between her teeth in expression of worry and fear. As her fingertip touched the smooth glass, girl and crystal disappeared, and the car rumbled by as a boy looked over his shoulder at a suddenly empty room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Here's this story again. I'm excited to continue the next chapter. I get depressed when I'm not creating something, so if you ever want to remind me to get my brain back into gear, I would appreciate it.

Kzal guessed where Toby is playing! Woo hoo!

I do not own any Labyrinth things.


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